


(but when I reach for you there's) just a supercut

by how_to_sit_gay



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 5+1 Things, And a bit of fluff, Angst, F/F, I'm not asking for a lot here Chibs, if they don't at least hug in the special I will throw things all the way to Britain, we all know Yaz had so many chances kissing the Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/how_to_sit_gay/pseuds/how_to_sit_gay
Summary: Five times Yaz should've kissed the Doctor and one time she finally does.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	(but when I reach for you there's) just a supercut

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, trying to cash in a bit more input for the end of the year statistics like the annoying little bitch I am
> 
> and as per usual I got hit over the head with an idea while I was minding my own business walking down the street and had to write it down and share it.

i.

“Get the hostages back to your ship. Yaz, you go with him.”

“No. I’m with you, whatever happens.”

The words tumble from her lips without thinking, the only indication of their gravitas being the way the Doctor’s throat bobs as she swallows hard enough for Yaz to worry that the communicator might get dislodged. She can see from the look in the Time Lord’s eyes that she’s just said something monumental, something she maybe shouldn’t have just blurted out like this, however there is no time to dwell on it.

There’s never time to dwell on anything once they step through the TARDIS’ doors these days, it seems.

With everything happening so fast, it barely registers with her how uncharacteristically easy the Doctor heeds her wish to stay and gives a curt nod in Paltraki’s direction. It’s a quick and efficient exchange, one practiced captain to another.

“We’ll wait for you at the ship for as long as we can.”

His words hardly leave an impression on her mind, she’s too focused on reconciling her heart’s need to dissect the Doctor’s reaction to her previous words with her brain’s need to find a way out of this mess with the least amount of deaths possible.

(Her body’s need to flee life threatening situations has been successfully trained out of her at this point.)

As it turns out, to their great dismay, it’s one of those classic trolley problem situations: the lives of two aliens versus the lives of seven billion people on Earth.

Upon realising it, the Doctor skips past her, frantically trying to get her mind to work with the extra stimulus, while at the same time Yaz feels a wave of exhaustion hitting her. She loves how the alien always tries to find the perfect solution for everyone, how her goal is and probably always will be for everyone to be alive at the end of the day - and most of the time she shares the sentiment - but sometimes… sometimes the maths is easy for a simple human like her, especially when Earth is concerned.

Thinking out loud as usual, the other woman’s words fill the air around them, filtering into Yaz’s eardrums and bouncing around her own synapses as her brain involuntarily tags along with searching for a way to disconnect the Ux’s psyche from the Stenza contraption.

And just like that, she actually finds one.

“Neural balancers!” both she and the Doctor cry out in unison, and the blonde’s eyes are alight with a rapid succession of emotion. Relief at finding something that saves them just a tad more time, hope that they can fix this problem one way or another, and… admiration?

‘ _Yasmin Khan, you speak my language_ ’ echoes somewhere in the back of her mind, her guts positively churning at the thought of the Doctor marvelling at something she’s said or done.

She should’ve let the universe be in danger for two more seconds and kissed her then.

ii.

Despite the Doctor running just a bit cooler than humans and all four of them having spent quite some time squeezed into the TARDIS’ door as the icy cold of space is barely held back by the atmospheric force field around them, the hand on her left shoulder seems to burn through Yaz’s leather jacket. Cosmic fireworks are painting the sky - is it even a sky when they’re in the middle of space? - in incredible hues of purple and pink and blue and orange, and yet the display seems to be unable to compare to the feeling of the Doctor huddled up so closely against her back.

Suddenly, the alien leans in even closer, their faces pressed almost cheek to cheek as she whispers only for her to hear, pointing at something just left of centre from their point of view.

“Y’see that little dot over there, the one next to the other one?”

“Yeah, what about it?”, she whispers right back, when in fact she doesn’t have an inkling as to what the Doctor is talking about. The only thing Yaz knows at this point is that she’d say anything to just keep her talking like she was bestowing a precious secret upon her.

A warm breath ghosts over her cheek as the Time Lord explains how and why those fireworks came to be in the first place, the hair on the back of her neck rising at the tickling sensation, and she keeps her gaze fixed firmly forward, a part of her afraid of what she might do if she turned to look at the Doctor now with their faces so close.

Before long, they’re all ushered back in again and the bubbly alien bounces on the pads of her feet as she asks them eagerly for their favourite of the nineteen New Year’s Eves they have witnessed so far that day. After both the boys have given their answer, the Doctor and her come up almost nose to nose as they turn to each other, the Doctor’s eyes glinting in a rare show of genuine happiness in the amber light while she patientily waits for Yaz to answer. 

(It takes her a moment longer to realise she’s been staring and she knows Ryan will ribb her endlessly about it later.)

“1801”, she manages to get out at last, mirroring the enthusiasm of the woman in front of her, “discovering that dwarf planet with your Italian mate.”

The Doctor scrunches up her whole face at that, almost half of her face disappearing completely behind her big rainbow scarf. Still, Yaz can see the big smile on her lips in the way the small lines around her eyes crinkle and her cheeks become especially squishy right at the top, and maybe, maybe if they were alone right now, she would finally manage to pluck up all her courage and taste it right off the source.

The grin still unwavering, the Time Lord spins away and she begins to chatter about Giuseppe Piazzi and another New Year’s Eve. A second later, the moment is definitely and irreparably broken when an alarm sounds from the console, their budding plans pushed to the back immediately.

She should’ve ignored the boys’ presence and kissed her then.

iii.

Of course she wants to get this device free and find out what’s been going on - this is something right up her alley, something she was dreaming about getting to do during her police work after all. But if Yaz is being honest with herself, the true driving force of her begging the Doctor for just one hour on her own is to show the other woman what she’s capable of. Just like back on Earth, back in the force, she wants, no, _needs_ to prove herself.

And most of all, she wants to make her proud. Desperately.

It’s a familiar back and forth between them, only the roles seem reversed this time with the Doctor refusing and arguing against her staying back alone. In the neon pink light of a back alley somewhere in Hong Kong, the blonde’s eyes are completely robbed of the green hues that give them their softness, leaving her with nothing but dark orbs staring back at Yaz.

The thoughts are running so quickly behind them that Yaz is afraid she’ll get motion sick if she stares for a second too long. It’s obvious that the other woman is calculating every possible outcome, everything that could go wrong and every chance of it happening, however this time Yaz is determined and plants her feet firmly onto the wet pavement. Wordlessly, she holds the Time Lord’s hard gaze.

It’s only a small victory that the Doctor solely gives in when Gabriella volunteers to join her, but it’s a victory nonetheless. The Time Lord’s face is set in stone when she allows her one hour, all hard lines and clenched jaw, her almost black eyes never straying from Yaz’s to really drive the point home how serious she is about the whole thing.

Yet despite the front she is putting up, Yaz can see the worry etched deep behind it. That moment she understands that it has never been a lack of trust or assumption of incompetence that made the Doctor keep them close as much as possible - it is fear. Primitive and oh so human fear of not being in control and losing someone in the process.

The realisation sends another rush of adrenaline through her, the need to prove herself multiplying. Rendered speechless by the weight of the moment, Yaz gives her one last lingering look, trying to pour every ounce of gratitude, and something she isn’t ready to spell out yet, into it.

Still, giddy with excitement and the fact that she got the Doctor to budge, she turns and starts off to the back entrance of the building again, back to where another mystery lies waiting just for her to crack, barely registering the steps of the still unfamiliar girl following her. 

Just before she closes the door behind them, she sees the Time Lord standing in the TARDIS door framed like a saint by the golden glow from within, watching her like a hawk with the same unchanged expression.

She should’ve run back and kissed her then.

iv.

“Are ya absolutely sure? This seems like an awful lotta flour.”

Yaz turns just in time to see a cloud kick up right in front of the Doctor’s face, leaving her dark blue shirt spattered with specks of white powder. When the alien subsequently shakes her head like a wet dog and sneezes, another one bursts up, making her face disappear from view for the second time within a minute. 

Once the dust has settled, Yaz puts her hands to her hips and surveys the mess in front of her with a raised eyebrow. “Dunno how you measured that, but I were talking about grams, y’know.”

The Doctor blinks slowly like a confused cat for a few seconds, her eyes going comically wide when the penny finally drops for her. “ _Oh_! Earth grams, not Flabterian grams, of course! Now that makes _so_ much more sense.”

Yaz looks her dead in the eye for a long heartbeat before she has to turn around, hiding the undeniably lovesick smile breaking out on her lips under the guise of grabbing the remaining ingredients for Ryan’s birthday treat. If she didn’t already know that she was in way too deep with her little crush, she’d definitely know now by the way her heart constricts almost painfully at the adorable display of the alien in her rainbow coloured apron.

(She barely managed to talk her out of wearing a toque, being afraid that she wouldn’t survive the undoubtedly endearing sight of her with it.)

Determined to spare them any further incidents, Yaz takes it upon herself to measure everything before she hands it to the Doctor, leaving the alien with whisking everything together. Yet with the Doctor simply being the Doctor, there are always some tiny risks involved, it seems.

Yaz spots it right away as she looks at her. “Look at you”, she sighs fondly and walks up to the Time Lord, “Brilliant n’ powerful ancient alien you are, saving the universe at least twice a week, but still making a mess of yourself while baking some shoddy Earth muffins.”

“There’s nothing shod-- Oh.”

Without really meaning to, Yaz’s hands move to the Doctor’s face, keeping her head still with one and wiping off the splatter of chocolate batter on her left cheek with the thumb of the other. Realising what she’s doing, she freezes mid-motion, her eyes going wide enough to match the blonde’s. 

They have been growing closer - well, physically at least, when it came to everything else the Time Lord is still as closed off as can be - over the last few adventures, ever since Yaz survived going off on her own unscathed, but this right now is by far the most loaded moment between them. She can see every single one of the Doctor’s lashes, sees them fluttering as she traces the pad of her thumb over her skin once again despite there being nothing to wipe away anymore.

Hazel eyes flit nervously over her face until they come to rest on her lips and-- oh. Is this the moment? She can feel the distance between them dwindling, can feel her heart beating out of her chest in giddy anticipation, and yet. Yet some tiny little part inside her screams and yells and kicks in unexpected panic and Yaz drops her hands, taking a step backwards and the bowl out of the Doctor’s hands under the pretense of pouring the batter into the paper cups on the counter.

The other woman’s face gives nothing away when Yaz finally dares to look at her again, they go about everything as if nothing happened (which it didn’t, thanks to Yaz), yet she can’t help feeling as if she made an irredeemable mistake.

She should’ve kissed her then.

v.

The memory slams into her like a freight train, taking hold of her and dragging her along the rails until she is beaten and bruised, barely able to breathe. Soundlessly, the mug slips from her hands and lands back in the dirty dish water with a splash, creating wet patterns on the counters and her red sweater.

Gallifrey.

The stench of burning, of blood and _so much death_ fills her nostrils instantly and it takes her a moment to understand that the orange glow in front of her eyes does in fact not stem from the twin suns shining overhead but from the very singular sun setting outside over Sheffield. Holding on tightly to the edge of the sink, Yaz hangs her head low and takes in a shuddering breath.

She remembers the way the interdimensional portal tugged and tore at her clothes the moment she stepped through. Without thinking, _never_ thinking twice when the Doctor was involved. 

The look on her face as she took the detonator from Ko Sharmus, realising that her next showdown with the Master would be a suicide mission, is engrained behind Yaz’s closed eyelids the same way her last words to them, to her, have made their permanent residence inside the drums of her ears, whispering to her at night and jolting her awake to do nothing but scream in a desperate attempt to drown them out.

 _“I’m sure I_ don’t _wanna do that but there is no alternative.”_

She had been so ready to fight yet another fight alongside the Doctor, the adrenaline already coursing through her and preparing her for the next step of their plan to save the day, when those beloved eyes pinned her feet to the TARDIS’ floor with the heaviness and despair in them.

_“Alone.”_

The Doctor had looked at her so pointedly as she said it, as if she had known that out of everyone Yaz would put up the biggest fight. And still, Yaz would do so again in a heartbeat, even if it was just to find out the hidden meaning behind the Time Lord’s sad double take in her direction.

(Deep inside her, she _knows_. And God, doesn’t it just hurt even more.)

_“Get off me, Yaz!”_

She sees the Doctor’s face in front of her, sees all the pain and fear inside hazel eyes as they turned muddy with rapidly forming tears. Every microsecond of their interaction has passed in by her mind’s eye countless times, more than often enough for her to know every twitch on the Doctor’s face by heart.

And more than often enough, it’s her broken and whispered _Please_ that feels like a stab to her heart and drags a desperate sob up Yaz’s throat, salty tears spilling over and mingling with the soapy water below.

The problem with surviving countless dangerous situations with the Doctor, Yaz has come to understand, is, that sooner or later you forget the gravity of it all, you forget that each adventure could very well be the last one. And so she let her walk away, clinging to the hope that she would make it out alive somehow and they would be reunited in the end anyway.

She shouldn’t have let her shake her off, shouldn’t have let her go that easily.

She definitely should’ve kissed her then.

i.

Yaz made a promise to herself. Every night that she was lying awake, every day that she spent holed up in the _wrong_ TARDIS doing research and chasing dead ends, every time she breathed the Doctor’s name she promised herself that there wouldn’t be any more _should have_ ’s. 

If she ever got to see her again, she would kiss her as soon as the moment was right. She was absolutely and utterly done regretting chances she didn’t take.

She remembers this as she runs through the prison hallways, sirens and alarms blaring all around her, the alien tech in her hand beeping, adding to the cacophony of sounds, and blinking rapidly the closer she gets to what she presumes is the Doctor’s cell. Yet when she finally manages to fiddle the door open with the makeshift key Jack had given her, their reunion is far from what she imagined during her long nights alone.

Instead of them flying into each other’s arms the second they spot each other, instead of urgently whispered _I missed you_ ’s and an even more frantic kiss, there is a moment where they look at each other like strangers over the stone slap in the middle of the room, both unsure of who or what they’re facing at first.

Her hair is so greasy, Yaz barely finds any purchase in it when she finally buries her hands in it, keeping the other woman’s head still as she searches for any sign of the Doctor, _her_ Doctor, in uncharacteristically dull hazel eyes. 

No, this isn’t the right moment.

It’s not the right Doctor, even.

But later, later, when they have made it out with the help of Jack’s vortex manipulator, when they have recovered from the nausea of cheap and nasty time travel, when they have found the _right_ TARDIS, that’s when something happens that might grow into a moment.

Unable to sleep despite exhaustion clawing at her, Yaz is still wide awake when the door to her bedroom creaks open. With an unsure and questioning look in her eyes, the Doctor traipses in on sock clad feet and Yaz couldn’t stop herself from lifting up her duvet for her to crawl under even if she wanted to. Still wet strands of blond hair tickle her face for a moment as the other woman wordlessly settles in, her back turned to Yaz and curling up to make herself as small as possible.

Feeling daring, Yaz budges up until she can feel the bones of her spine against her chest, gingerly wrapping an arm around the Doctor’s too thin waist and pulling her close. It takes a moment, but when the other woman melts against her at last, she can finally find some rest.

Come next morning, her eyes blink open slowly and she’s faced with the Doctor being so close that she goes almost cross eyed as she tries to get her face into focus. Yaz finds their legs intertwined and the Doctor’s fingers twitching in the space between their chests as if the other woman still can’t believe this is real and can barely keep herself from reaching out and touching her friend just to make absolutely sure.

And Yaz gets it, she really does. 

(She half expected to wake up alone and with everything just a dream, like so many countless times before.)

When she meets the Time Lord’s eyes and immediately finds the familiar spark in her hazel irises, she knows. Slowly, she reaches out and cradles the Doctor’s cheek in her palm, the responding hum she receives sending shivers down her spine, and she scoots forward, determined to prove them both just how real this is.

Not caring a single bit for anything or anyone in time and space for once, Yaz finally kisses the Doctor.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> can you imagine how I broke my heart time and time again rewatching the scene on Gallifrey? that fucking double take miss whittaker hmu i need to speak with you for a hot minute


End file.
